The Halfbreed
by Harmony Sunsinger
Summary: Mama, what's a halfbreed?" From the same universe as "The Affair."


A/N: This was an idea I had when I first saw a cute little pic on photobucket of a child Inuyasha standing to one side with a surprised look on his face, holding a ball. At the top, in scratchy lettering, was written, "Mama, what's a halfbreed?" It was crushing… Purely heartwrenching. It reminded me of something that Noah asked me once after coming home from school… and I assure you, I did something about it, just like Kagome does in this oneshot. Poor Shippo…

So, this is also from the same universe as "The Affair."

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha; I don't even really own the plot! Another "Yea, that REALLY happened" scenarios. I don't make any money from this dramarama.

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The Halfbreed.

"Mama, what's a halfbreed?"

My nose began to twitch right then, as soon as those horrendous words left my boy's mouth. My jaw dropped, and I spun the chair around to look at him; he just stood there, staring up at me. His green eyes were so big and full of wonder, but definitely not the good kind. His right hand clutched the strap of his black backpack as he watched my face intently, keeping track of my emotions, I knew.

I licked my lips, taking a deep breath to try to calm my already frayed nerves. 'Cool it, Kags. Maybe he just heard it on the radio or the TV or something…' I told myself, counting to ten before asking him sweetly, "Oh, honey, where on Earth did you hear something like that?"

Shippo blinked, hesitating. Then his eyes dropped to the hardwood floor of the gallery; he held onto the strap, but his left hand shot up to rub the back of his head sheepishly. I made a face at him, but he wouldn't look at me suddenly. "I dunno," he murmured, looking everywhere else in the gallery _except _for me.

"Babe."

Finally, at his well-used pet name, his eyes flicked upward, meeting mine. I gave him a concerned look, tilting my head just a bit. Cupping his chin with the palm of my right hand, I stroked his cheek gently with my fingertips. I meant to be comforting, but the five year old pulled back from my touch. "Ma… Is it _that_ bad?"

I sighed, dropping my hand. "Yes," I answered bluntly. He looked back up at me, for once surprised by my truthfulness. I shrugged at him. "Now I want you to tell me who said that to you."

Little Shippo started to back away from me, waving his hands at me. "No, Ma, don't worry about it! I'll just… I dunno…" He turned and ran from the awkward situation he must've found himself in with me. As I watched him disappear up the stairs, into the loft, I stood and dug around my desk for the phone. When I found it, I sighed, sitting back down and dialing a number I hadn't had to dial in quite some time.

"Principal Jones? This is Kagome Higurashi, Shippo Taisho's mother. I'm afraid that I have a little bit of a bone to pick with you…"

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Later that night, after Sango and Miroku had gone home for the night with their two kids, I made my way upstairs and started looking for Shippo. I found him hiding underneath the blue, thick, cotton throw in the family room; he must've been watching television while I was closing up downstairs, because I could hear Spongebob Squarepants blaring the FUN song all the way from the stairs.

Quietly, I entered the room, flicking on the dimmed lights; watching for the smallest of movements, I walked around the side of the sofa, plopping down right next to the giant, blue blob of fabric that twitched at the top every now and then. Taking a deep, content breath and leaning over, I ended up collapsing on top of him, and giggles began to emanate from the blanket. "Stop it, Mama!" he cried out, swatting at me through the cotton; I laughed loudly, twisting on the sofa and catching him in my hands. My fingers found his ribcage, and I began to tickle him viciously. Shippo kicked and yelled, slapping at me but never making contact. "Quit, Ma! Darn it, quit!" he hollered between muffled laughs.

After a while, we calmed down, and we just lay together on the sofa the entire night. I spent some time telling him again what his father was life. I told him that he would meet his father one day, if he wanted. Then he asked, again, what a halfbreed was. And I answered:

"It's not what you are."

He thought for a moment for asking me, "Then what am I?"

I swallowed, and then I looked down and smiled at him. "You're perfect just the way you are. And never – I mean, _never_ – forget that. You are all anyone needs to be happy… _just_the way you are right here, right now."

His bright, beautiful smile returned, and he snuggled closer to me; I tightened my arms' grip around him.

Together we lay there until morning… my perfect halfbreed and me.

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A/N: If you haven't guessed yet, the question that Noah asked me was pretty much exactly like that, and just as bad: "Mama, what's a bastard?" I was appalled; I basically told him that night that he was no bastard, that he would never be what those other spoiled kids said that he was. I told him that he was perfect, and that he was mine, and that he was all I ever needed to be happy. After I put him to bed, I cried. I felt like such a bad mother, putting my boy in that kind of position…

Anyway. The song I listened to while writing this was "Here We Go Again" by Ok Go. Go on youtube and watched the music video for it – just search for "Ok Go on treadmills." Have fun, peeps!


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